Wayne Manor:Love house
by Mortalsapien
Summary: Diana is not perfect wife. And Bruce is certainly not a perfect husband either. How is the married life of Dark Knight and Amazon Princess? Sweet like cake, or tangy like lemon. Read to know. BM/WW.


**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Wonder Woman and Batman both belong to DC comics.

**0o0o0o**

Unconsciously twirling her star shaped earring with her fingers, a pencil rolling on the other hand like a small but sharp spear in a warrior's hand, Diana reviewed the concise written lines, one by one memorizing them and smiling slightly to herself.

Her New Year's resolutions.

Another peculiar celebrating tradition of Man's world that Diana remembered and enjoyed after spending her "second life" here, among men and women, far from her Mother and sisters. She understood it was all part of carnival, which started with the New Year's Eve. It was time to forge some new decisions, to fulfill those wishes that never met in past years. And to try anew.

A new vigor. A new passion. And a New Year.

She liked the way some traditions were rooted in modern men society.

Then her brows furrowed deeply, ruddy lips bit into the rubbery end of pencil, and fingers twitched invisibly without any semblance, as her azure eyes scanned the last line.

The Batman.

Those two words were more than enough for Diana as her heart jumped into her silly singsong with those stupid memories of particular Dark Knight singing in front of strangers. To which extent she loved him—there was no limit. Plain and simple. Not any limits she had found yet.

"That intolerant, smug, stubborn Bat-head didn't even show his face to New Year's eve!" Diana mumbled aloud, fingers clenching on the wooden pencil and squeezing out its life. If only she knew that the smug man would pull his disappearance act on the party, Diana would have never given him any chances.

Maybe strung up him in their bedroom, she giggled with the naughty thought.

Instead, that silver-tongued devil—whom she loved more than anything—disappeared in the middle of party, leaving her alone to fend off those over eager guests who wanted to dance with the Diana Wayne. And not to mention those scatterbrained high society women who never missed a chance of asking about her sex life with Gotham's first son. If not for Alfred and Lucius, and later on Kal and Lois presence, Diana would have been in worse mood right now.

Her pencil almost speared the name of Dark Knight when a knock sounded on the door.

"Madam Ambassador." Lyla, Diana's secretary in Themysciran Embassy, peeped in with gentle voice. "The Chinese delegation is here."

"Thank you, Lyla." Diana put aside the paper and pencil; she had to catch up her New Year's resolutions later on. Then she would decide what to do with her cunning husband, who thought fooling her was good idea. "I will meet them in conference room. Does the link with Kaznian Embassy established, or someone physically came from Kaznia?"

"No Madam, no one came from Kaznian Embassy." Lyla shook her head. "But we have established a virtual video communication with Queen Audrey."

"That's okay." Diana smiled tightly, masking off her frustration for her husband. Once at home, she would deal with that Bat-head, and since he liked to act stubborn she might have to beat her point few times in his head. But before that—duty calls.

**0o0o0o**

"Sometimes, I still can't believe that you are married with Bruce Wayne, Diana." Queen Audrey remarked through the virtual video comm while she was sitting in her royal chamber, far from the Metropolis. Despite everything, she and Diana were still fast friends. Nonetheless, Diana felt guilty sometimes for not spending enough time with her friend, especially after her own marriage.

"Audrey…," Diana sighed, fiddling away the last paperwork from conference concluded between Kaznian and Chinese delegation with peaceful intervention of Themyscira. "How many times have we talked on this topic?"

"Too many times." Audrey snorted a brief laugh. "But still… sometimes, I wake up in morning and think of calling you—"

"That's sweet of you, Audrey." Diana smiled in return.

"—but then I stop. Because whenever I think of dialing your number … I get reminded that I have to call the Bruce Wayne, in order to talk to you."

"Is there a problem in calling at Wayne Manor in morning?" Diana frowned, fingers steepled together in residual tension. These diplomatic meetings were painful to sit by. Not even fighting Giganta had been this pain in the neck.

_Hera! _Often times Diana had even wished for a JL emergency so that she could skip them, which had happened few times of course, given the numbers of crisis JL handled.

"No, Diana." Audrey objected. "It means that I have to call BRUCE WAYNE in morning."

"So?" Diana asked as her free hand batted away at the annoying hairs.

"Believe me, Diana. No single or married woman wants to call Bruce _freaking_ Wayne in her morning."

"Oh," Diana bit her lip before replying. How could she forestall these types of comments when her husband just vanished in middle of party, even without any magical poof! Yes, she could always claim that he was Gotham's most wanted criminal: the Batman.

"Don't worry, Audrey. I think I also don't want any women calling my husband in morning."

"Funny, Diana. Very funny." Audrey folded her arms, and then shrugged the issue physically. "By the way, I didn't hear anything about _the baby_."

"No baby, Audrey!" Diana declared with her lips curling in the whining anger.

The Baby. That word had been literally omnipotent in her married life, since the rumors of hitching between the Princess of Themyscira and the Prince of Gotham had confirmed in everyone's mind. All of them wanted to know: if there _is_ baby coming? Is he or she has black hairs? Is he or she (or sometimes both) has blue eyes? Is he or she going to be like her?

_Hera!_ Only if Diana could strangle away some those reporters—including the Mrs. Lois Lane Kent who had also posted an article on "the next Wayne heir"—she would be too happy to oblige. Too bad Bruce was firm at his non-killing policy.

"Cool down gal!" Audrey toasted smile, knowing "the baby" rumor irritated Diana more than anything did. "I was just asking."

"Audrey…I'm warning you." Diana glared, lips pursed in annoyance. "There are enough gossip magazines to discuss that issue."

"Speaking of issues, Diana," Audrey spoke next word leaning toward her as if someone would hear her. Diana shook her head at that attitude. "You sure Wayne is not doing any hanky-panky behind your back. Because I just heard, his secretary is admitted to hospital…. Um, that's Gotham General, maybe."

"It is Gotham General, Audrey." Diana made a dismissive gesture. "I was there when she got to hospital. And for Hera's sake, Audrey, let's close this gossip connection. This virtual video comm cost a lot of money to my embassy."

"Oh, c'mon gal, your Mother can afford this."

"No, she can't," Diana dismissed the option curtly.

"Oh, then your rich husband can surely afford this." Audrey grinned. "Use some of his money, gal. He's a millionaire after all."

"No thanks, Audrey. I have plenty for myself," Diana noted dryly. "And one more thing."

"Yes?"

"He's a billionaire, Audrey. Billionaire."

**0o0o0o**

A woman's touch sparkle the spirit of house, Bruce reasoned to himself for umpteenth time as he trotted down from stairs. Alfred was still out of house, busied somewhere in Florence, Italy, enjoying his vacation. The real off duty time from being his non-stop Butler.

Even Bruce's eidetic memory could not recall how many times he had honestly—and genuinely—tried to send his faithful old friend to some vacation trips. But, of course, his own butler never listened to him. Bruce shook his head, scratching the light stubble. How Diana managed to send off Alfred, without even a fuss, was simply miraculous for Bruce—though he still did not believe in miracles.

Except his marriage—it was a miracle. Truly no doubt. Because how Bruce married his princess, he was still clueless. It was one of those mysteries that piled up in the cases, which even the World's Greatest Detective wasn't able to solve. Yet. He would solve them, but other cases were more attention demanding.

"Hey, Dad!" Tim chimed from the dinner table, half toast still stuck in mouth. "Good moorring."

Bruce shook his head in disapproval; his ward was never going to change his manners. Perhaps it was high time he should talk to Diana of not inviting Wallace West over for dinner in Manor. Bruce was sure it was _Flash effect_ on his wards, first Dick and now Tim too.

"Good Morning," Bruce replied, rubbing his forehead hard with the heel of his hand, trying to push away the sleepiness feeling inside him. His eyes rested on the glass having a juices mix.

"Mom is off to duty, and you're directed to prepare your own food."

Bruce nodded absently, gulping down the juices mix in stomach. His gaze searched on table for few next seconds, but there was something missing. "Where's my coffee?"

"No coffee, Dad." Tim shrugged with wicked grin written on his face. "Mom said you've to make yourself a one."

"Why?" Bruce asked with icy looks. "I don't think you made that breakfast yourself."

"Hey! You don't have to eye my food," Tim protested, stuffing few extra pieces of bread. "Mom made that for me. Besides, you were the one who vanished from the party night. Remember."

"Fine!" Bruce grumbled, pivoting straight toward the kitchen.

By no mean, he was an ill-mannered husband—still a coffee in morning from your wife's hand did not hurt either. Not like Diana was a great cook. Admittedly, she wasn't a disastrous cook like Bruce, and surely she had never burned the Manor kitchen when attempting to cook. But that happened only once—when Bruce was just young teen.

Regardless, Bruce could make a black coffee for himself. He knew that much cooking skills. And he should prove that much. Hah, furthermore, he had just finished his own virtual cooking agent program. It would surely boost his cooking skills.

After all, the Batman always had a plan. For everything. No less some dumb minded cooking.

**0o0o0o**

Tapping the pencil lightly on paper with tick-tock rhyme, Diana felt guilty of not making a wake up coffee for Bruce. It wasn't a husbandly duty, yet she knew Bruce was like a zombie if he didn't get his early rising black coffee with low sugar.

Hera forbids, Diana would not even imagine that weakness in her shining armor knight. Who knew that a black coffee could be so essential for the Batman, certainly Diana had never expected that. Nevertheless, in Alfred absence, she was the caretaker of everything, including Bruce.

Her aquamarine eyes rested on the phone as she resisted the urge to call to Manor. Perhaps Tim had told him by now, or maybe her late rising husband was still sleeping in his rug like a true bat. Whatsoever Diana halted her urges; she needed to focus on some more paperwork. All this New Year celebration had loaded more paperwork on her. Perhaps New Year and new paperwork was better slogan for her.

"Madam!" Diana's room door banged open as Lyla barged in, panting for brief breaths. "Fire! Madam. Fire!"

"Hera! Lyla," Diana exclaimed, sauntering quickly to her friend, assisting. "What happened? Where is fire?"

"Fire all over the house." Lyla huffed with ragged breaths. "Someone…some called from Manor. Fire … at Manor."

"Wayne Manor?" Diana's stomach twisted in knots, like a beast raging fire within. "Bruce?"

"Fire… Manor."

"You rest here, Lyla," Diana advised to young blonde, who was utterly shocked by the news. Someone had must called at Embassy. But why had no one called her? "Take a break and go home, Lyla. Are you listening to me?"

The blonde girl nodded with apparent hesitation.

"Good girl." Diana smiled at her secretary while her heart, however, thudded inside the ribs, pouncing in fear. Is Tim and Bruce okay? The question nagged continuously as Diana without further ado flew toward her home—the Wayne Manor.

**0o0o0o**

Above the Wayne Manor like a mystical amorphous beast, shadowing everything, the murky and sooty columns of black smokes hung in windless air of Gotham. Diana, or in her current dress, the Wonder Woman felt a hot rush of dread as she approached the Manor with the flying ability bested by Hermes.

Her eyes hardened, muscles tensing up for action as she watched some firefighters industrially busy in shedding away the last speckle of fire from Manor. As much as Diana could observe, the damage was no great, only a small eastern wing part of Manor had taken the big brunt of fire. Though the wall connected to the Manor's kitchen had gutted down to single bricks.

Feet moving forward in hurried pace as she touched on Manor ground, eyes haunted by fire vision, Diana almost shrieked when a someone launched itself at her.

"Mom!"

Diana exhaled a deep breath as her son hugged her tightly. Tim Drake Wayne gave a full smile at her.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom." Tim replied with full roll of eyes. "Nothing happened. Not at least to us."

"Bruce?"

"Bru… I mean, Dad, is good too." Tim still sometimes heisted out of habit in calling Bruce as Dad, but Diana was just too happy to bother such minor things.

"What happened?" Diana asked as her face finally relaxed, though her hands checked Tim thoroughly for any hidden injury or trauma. Knowing Bruce and Tim both unhurt, Diana could finally focus on the crisis at her hands. Especially how it all happened in first place?

"Dad did it." Tim answered, like reading her mind.

"Who?" Diana stared in disbelief, not really convinced by the answer she heard.

"Dad cooked in kitchen, Mom."

"HERA!" Diana swore aloud.

**0o0o0o**

Bruce lay on the form chair, wearing a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt, a pair of dark goggles hung on eye frame as he coolly basked in the Sun.

Taking sometime off his duty, especially after freeing his Monitor Duty of the Watchtower by few tricks, and then enjoying a sunbath in the cool Sunday Gotham afternoon, was a rare luxury for Bruce Wayne—even though most people would never believe him if Bruce ever said it.

But sometimes, nowadays, Bruce had forced himself to take a routine break from everything; it was a rejuvenating experience like hours of meditation. Just putting a break at everything and living his life like his parents wanted for him. A life in not in luxury, but in love.

His lips resisted the quirk as a long shadow loomed over him; Bruce knew Diana was angry at the disappearing stunt of the nights earlier, at New Year's Eve party. Yet he did not have any options.

The Joker had blown a meteor size crater in newly opened Casino by the Penguin, and then both super criminals literally slugged each other gang members with torrents of bullets. By the time GCPD responded, those two Batman's rogues would have surely decimated half of the Gotham if not for timely intervention of the Caped Crusader.

In aftermath of fight, Bruce had chained back the laughing manic back to Arkham Asylum, along with his bouncing girlfriend Harley Quinn, who was trying to chop off the Batman's head. Again unsuccessfully.

After that, Bruce had to put withering Cobblepot aka the Penguin into the Gotham General when the old mob boss had a severe heart attack in midst of battle and surrender. If the Batman had left Cobblepot into GCPD care, he wouldn't have survived the night, Bruce was sure. So, in the end Dark Knight had to save his sworn enemy life too.

And when finally after all these activities, Bruce returned home, Diana was waiting with the good news that she had sent Alfred to a vacation.

So many heartaches in one day—hell, even the Dark Knight _has_ some limits.

"Bruce." Her sweet, melodic, and stern voice made him wince as Bruce craned his head at her towering wife. No, Bruce corrected himself; she was currently in her uniform. That only meant more trouble.

The long raven hairs flowing behind her back, unhindered. The tiara shone like gem, accompanied by the set of bracelets—indestructible by there memo—Bruce knew. Then, the red corset bearing the eagle, and the oddly likeable shorts, with a truth lasso looped on her slim waist corner.

"Princess, you're early." Bruce smiled, pushing the goggles down on his nose. Smiling was another uncharacteristic feature that he had developed after oftentimes nagging of Diana. "I thought you were busy today."

"Bruce, how did that happen?"

"What?" Bruce made a perfect poker face, standing by her side. "Oh, that's nothing. It was only a small fire, Princess. Fire department had handled everything. And none of other rooms are affected. Even, I've talked to my new secretary who has booked the penthouse if we need it. Anything else?"

Silence kept looming for few seconds, and then turned to minutes as Diana stood glowering at him.

"Okay, sorry," Bruce finally said as Diana stared at him, no whatsoever reaction from his words.

For few seconds Bruce wondered if she was going to throw up temper tantrum. He had faced them a handful times whenever he had done something… unusual. Not stupid—because the Batman never did anything stupid—but unusual for sure.

Still silence.

Now that's more unusual, Bruce mused, even by his standards. "Fine. I am really _really_, sorry. I shouldn't have gone in the kitc—"

"Bruce Wayne you burned down the kitchen."

Huh… so only Bruce Wayne. That meant she was in one of those worst mood where the billionaire playboy alter ego of Bruce was her archenemy. Again, he had faced it rarely, but Diana was no happy that was sure.

"Diana…"

"What were you doing in the kitchen?" the scolding voice of Diana made him pause.

"I was just—"

"You were cooking in the Kitchen?"

"I was—"

"Are you cooking or not, BRUCE?"

Damn Interrogation. Bruce stared at her for few seconds, wondering when cooking in his own house became a horrendous crime. Because Diana's glare was, literally and silently, screaming at him—you filthy, little man, how did you dare to enter into the holy and revered kitchen?

"BRUCE!"

"Okay," Bruce thought back of his contingency plan. "I was just trying to make a coffee…"

"And you burned down the kitchen." Diana stated, anger flowing steadily in words.

"No, of course not," Bruce admonished that claim. "I was drinking my coffee, and I put the pie in microwave. And then… it just busted."

"Just busted?" Diana stared, blue eyes boring holes in Bruce's cranium.

"I mean." Bruce hesitated—he rarely did that, but what others option did he got. "I forget my spoon in the pie."

"Hera, Bruce!" Diana cringed with his words, massaging her forehead, and Bruce admitted it was mistake. Stuffing the metal in microwave, that is not a glorified mistake.

"It just one day since Alfred has gone, and you have already burned down the kitchen." Diana seemed at a loss for words. "Alfred was right, you are radioactive in kitchen. Unstably radioactive."

This time Bruce glared at her. "Diana, it's my kitchen!"

"No. It is _my_ kitchen." Diana ordered, voice calm like a impending volcano, face glowing like a nova star, and hands positioned at waist in typical Wonder Woman manner.

And Bruce sighed. What else he was supposed to do? Her claim was technically and legally both correct. Also, he was option-less. Why did he have to get married in first place? Why did even people get married in the first place? Couldn't they just live together and make babies, and then move on. How difficult could be that? Not a lot, Bruce could argue that to death.

"How much time will it take for kitchen to re-function properly?"

"Hmm." Bruce paused, his mind happy with distraction. What a great way to spend Sunday with family, Bruce? He mused.

"Don't worry it will be good as new in a week, Princess."

Diana sighed, her eyes still watchful of actions as smokes and charred bricks of Manor hurt like physically blow on her. It _is_ her home. Her only home in Man's world.

"Sorry," Bruce murmured again, hands snaking smoothly at her waist, avoiding the lasso as if it were a snake. Her frame melded into his body seamlessly as Bruce cupped her face, eyeing the distress in her blue eyes. "You think too much, Princess."

"And you don't think enough." She snapped. Hands beating lightly on his chest, knowing she could still push him away at her will, gave another strength to his love. She trusted him. She trusted in him unlike others, who had just seen a broken man.

"I thought you or Tim could be—"

"Nothing happened, Princess." Bruce lavished a series kisses on her shoulder, nuzzling softly at nape of her neck as Diana squirmed in his arms. "We have saved people from burning buildings, Diana. This small fire is nothing."

"You're impossible, Bruce."

"No, I'm Batman." Bruce said the cliché line as Diana smiled finally in exasperation.

"So, Mr. Detective how did you burn down the kitchen?" Diana brought back the question, and Bruce groaned with mild headache. Sometimes she is too stubborn for her own good. "I know that microwave didn't bust just by a spoon. It had fail-safe mechanism."

"I love you, Princess."

"I love you too, Bruce." Diana huffed, sighing and smiling at same time. "But the question still stands. How did you burn down the kitchen?"

"I'm expressing my love of life here, Diana," Bruce quoted in seriousness. "And you're insisting on stupid questions."

"Bruce Wayne?"

"Yes," Bruce smiled in return, arms tightened.

"You cannot distract me from this, Bruce." Diana retorted. "So tell me quick, how did you burn down the kitchen?"

"Have I ever tell that you look cute when you're angry, Princess?"

"Bruce, don't distract me!"

"Of course not, I'm just telling you that in anger you're like…"

"BRUCE!"

**0o0o0o**

**THE END**

**0o0o0o**

**A/n:** Happy New Year to all BMWW lovers. In addition, don't miss checking out Dinasis new fic: Pure Beauty—especially if you love a taste of wonder-bat angst. I love angst only 90 percent, but you can enjoy it full.

Keep Reading… and again, HNY to all! Ta da! And, don't forget hit the cute button of review.


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